


Proof

by justlikehoney



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 09:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikehoney/pseuds/justlikehoney
Summary: Dick wants everything.





	Proof

Dick knows a little about conditioning. And he knows, too, that it’s not so much the number of times that big black gauntlet brings bliss. It’s all the times it doesn’t, when you wish it did and you pretend it does. When you wish that big hand was wrapped around you instead of your own, tender from his too-rough strokes and hard, fast grip. Hurting—stinging the next day but feeling glad you have something to remember it by, some proof. 

Bruce acts like it didn’t even happen, like nothing has ever happened. 

Until it happens again.

Three times now. Three weekends. Always late on Sunday night, hours before he gets on his bike and rides back to New Carthage for class on Monday morning. That first weekend home from school, Homecoming weekend, and he’d skipped the big game because Bruce had called. Needed him. A tough case, he’d said on the phone. Then Thanksgiving holiday, and now it was the weekend before finals. He’d go back to school tomorrow, but in a week he’d be home again for Christmas break, and what would happen then?

He really wants a kiss.

And he wants this. He didn’t even know he could have it until that first time. And sure, he still wants more. He wants kisses, he wants a bed, he wants Bruce to let him touch him too. But Bruce has rules. Rules about what they can and can’t do. And how and when they can do it. Not that they talk about it, because they don’t say a word. Another rule Dick knows without being told.

A semester of Psyche 101 had opened his eyes a little. It already should have registered, but… maybe he hadn’t wanted to know. Or maybe he’d been too busy dissecting crime scenes, chasing thugs, whaling on the bad guys. Maybe. It _had_ kept him busy, but.... Did it take a prof lecturing on B. F. Skinner? Or just time away from Gotham? From Bruce. And from what—what he hoped was about to happen in the next few minutes. Like it always did, in the shadows, on a dark, grimy rooftop. Never at the house or the cave and just…

Please, let it happen.

Batman pulls him close, gentler with Dick than with anybody else, ever—when he starts. One gauntlet slips behind him, sliding under his uniform to press a gloved palm to the small of his bare back—smooth leather against his skin, right at his tailbone. The other drags along his belly and then slides into his shorts.

“Robin,” Batman says, his breath ragged, the way it always is when they do this, the way it always has been, since the first time he’d said his name like that; done this. Three weeks ago.

“Batman,” Dick says, tipping his head back for a kiss. Bruce won’t, hasn’t yet, but he buries his face in the side of Dick’s neck and the noise he makes is a hurt, broken sound.

The gauntlet’s rough, and tomorrow he’ll be tender. But right now, with Bruce’s mouth against the side of his throat, he smiles. 

Tomorrow, if he touches himself—or lets some girl touch him—and it stings, just a little? He’ll know this was real.


End file.
